


Recollected Affinity

by NightfireRed



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightfireRed/pseuds/NightfireRed
Summary: Bucky is constantly torn between the pre HYDRA and the Winter Soldier identities, Steve is mourning the loss of his best friend. But there is always a hope for both of them, even if the world around is falling apart. Deep inside they know that eventually they will end up together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!   
> I do know that there are so many good works in this fandom, and mine is not among them. But I just wanted to write an angsty Stucky fic, it`s been more like a challenge. Nevertheless, I still hope that maybe some of you may even like it, despite it being unbeta`d and English being not my native language. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Why do you have newspaper sheets on your windows?” inquired one day a 5 year old boy who lived next door.  
“That is how it works for me, kid,” muttered Bucky hurriedly. He stopped for a split second though, took a glimpse of the boy who was looking up at him, with that childish naivety and lively interest in the eyes.

A sharp sparkle of pain pierced his brain.

_innocent civilian, underage, no visible threat  
all-clear, soldier_

“No,” suddenly said Bucky in a loud whisper, his teeth gritted, his fists clenched with pain. He shouldn`t have gone out this early, he knew it was a restless move, he knew there would be people. He fixed the black glove on his left metal hand, a matter of habit – always being ready and precautious, watching out for any possible threat. Now he had forgotten how to distinguish between the relatively safe reality from his hazardous assassin past.   
   
These brief contacts with civilians were more than just complicated for him. What was he supposed to do with people when there was no mission to kill them? What answer to give to a person who was not beating the priceless information out of him?   
The only logical reaction he had gained – blinding anger. Every person who is not a HYDRA is a threat, potential or real.

“Are you okay, sir?” another question from the untiring kid suddenly made Bucky very aware of where he was.

_too many question, suspicious? for how long have they been spying on me? the combat knife is on its designated place, good  
_  
“Yes,” Bucky turns away and takes a couple of unsteady steps towards the door leading to his apartment.   
  
_I am not hurting anyone today. Not a child._   
  
The old door squeaked on its rusty hinges, a piece of dried paint coat fell off from the ceiling.   
  
It`s funny that this beaten up apartment, with paper thin walls and creaky wooden floor had become a shelter for the once ruthless killing machine who was trying to recollect his old self lost in the countless brainwashing sessions. If someone really tried they would effortlessly break into his temporary place in Romania.  
  
Home. This was another concept of many, the true meanings of which were nothing but a vague stereotypical image in Bucky`s head.   
  
Bucky meticulously tried to take the control over such unnecessary anger outbursts on a daily basis, but it was still almost impossible for him to actually start believing that not everyone around was a threat.  
  
In most cases the tiles in the tiny common shared bathroom met Bucky`s knuckles, crushed under the inhumanly vicious punches.  
It was better than breaking people`s limbs in the broad daylight.   
  
After he had put the second-hand book he had bought during this risky sally into the town on the floor near his bed, it already was 3 hours until the sunset and the fall of a nighttime. The only time when he felt himself relatively safe.   
  
3 hours until his ritual 20 miles long trial.   
  
For now, he positioned himself on the floor for doing push-ups.   
  
_One  
  
Two  
  
Three_

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

“Can I have this signed, please? Mr Rogers!” Another beaming kid was jumping around Steve, holding a glossy poster with Avengers squad printed on it.   
Such educational promo events were the obligatory part of their job, it didn`t matter whether you liked it or now. It wasn`t something to be discussed.   
“Of course, here you go,” Steve, still smiling, was doing his best to stay positive and keep his chin up. He signed the poster and turned around, looking for Natasha.   
She noticed it and chuckled. She could say that the remarkable Captain America was wearing a mask of jubilation under which was hiding a real face of a martyr. She knew he was desperately looking for any sort of aid, but the Black Widow is a one stubborn lady (and always up for irritating her friends, in a good way, of course).  
  
She was tired as well, her ankle was still sore after the last mission (being hit by a truck never been a pleasant activity). Given that it was only 6 hours after they landed back in NY, the whole situation seemed twice as absurd.   
  
Local library for children. Maybe a hundred people gathered just to take a look at their defenders, the fearless Avengers.   
It was Steve`s job to give a talk, Natasha stayed behind, nodding when asked and smiling in return when required.   
Where was Sam when he was so needed?  
  
“So, I guess we`re done here.”

Natasha turned around to face Steve. “Nice job, Cap.”

“Thanks, I guess? I always feel like it`s my duty to let people know what Avengers really fight for, what our mission is… The look in their eyes,” he said as we waved his hand at the kids, “They… They look up at us like we`re perfect. But we`re not, Nat. Despite all my preaches they still think that being a superhero is all about fun and games. I wish they all were right, but sadly they`re not.”  
“Steve,” says Natasha, her voice is deep and dangerously low, “Calm down. You just need to rest. We all, actually, do. You did great. As long as these children and their parents can come here and marvel Captain America, knowing that they are safe, I think we`re doing our job just fine.”  
“Thank you, Nat.” Steve sounded exhausted and somehow sad.  
She said nothing in return, just squeezed his arm reassuringly and smiled with the corners of her mouth.   
  
“Coffee?” suddenly asked Nat.  
“I could help with some,” shrugged Steve.   
  
She caught herself thinking that she actually admired his ability to keep the head up whatever happens. Almost.  
  
They left the modern building (was it the one Tony reconstructed last month?) and headed towards the local corner coffee shop.   
  
It was still 3 hours until the sunset.   
It wasn’t even close till the end of the day.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Faster, faster.  
  
He was running, new route every time.   
Always 20 mile long distance.  
Always avoiding the center of the town.  
  
Bucky liked running. Unlike Winter Soldier he ran for his own pleasure rather than for chasing the target.   
He concentrated on his breath, counting the steps so that every interval had the same amount of inhales and exhales.  
  
_Ready to comply_  
  
“NO!”   
  
The word explodes in the cool night air, echoing in the distance.   
  
The pace – even faster. Bucky forgot how to breathe at all, he just kept on running into the welcoming embrace of the night. The town was left somewhere behind.   
  
“No, please, no….” he whispered to himself.   
Stopping that fast was hurtful, his lungs were on the verge of bursting.   
  
Last time he felt such urge to just run without looking back was…

Was…  
  
A spark. Then another.  
  
Bucky mentally ordered his heart to stop pounding that loudly. He wanted to concentrate on these sparks.

Memories.

If they weren`t about HYDRA experiments, then they mostly concerned that man on the bridge.  
Steve was his name. He remembered, he had read about him in books, he had visited so many museums, did the research. To Bucky that man, Steve, was more than just a person of interest. Almost blind obsession and greedy striving to learn as much as possible about him seemed the only right thing at the moment.   


_I thought you were dead!  
_ The lab, they drugged him with some essence again. He remembered that. Another flashback.   
That voice…  
_I joined the army!_

Trembling fingers opened the notebook hurriedly, Bucky scribbled this flashback, putting down on paper another piece of a jigsaw riddle, which his mind was now. Yes, he did always have this notebook whatever happened.   
He didn`t care how it looked like to the side viewer, some lonely weird man, feverishly repeating the same name over and over, sitting on the ground, writing something in the dim light of a distant street-lamp.   
He already was a madman. He couldn`t care less as long as people didn`t intrude his personal space.

“Steve… Steve Rogers.” Saying this name aloud made Bucky feel real. Somehow. It was important. He wanted to know why. He wanted to remember.

He hoped that one day he can control the rage outbursts which triggered the Winter Soldier in him.   
  
He just wanted to be James Barnes again.  
  
He wanted to be Bucky.

Starry night it was. He raised his head, strands of his wet from the sweat hair stuck to his forehead, his metal fingers brushed them away.   
  
Bucky was glad that at least he had managed to save this treat of his character, be able to admire the beauty around.   
  
Steve also liked to draw nature.   
  
It was another note he took.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

Early morning jogging around The Washington Monument with Sam was always their routine. But they were located in New York now. And Sam was nowhere to be seen. And after the long day last thing Steve wanted was meeting anyone who was one way or another related to his job.   
  
Superheroes need some time alone, too.  
  
Steve pulled the hood of his hoodie and went out.   
  
It was a deep night already. Coffee with Natasha turned into the unwanted interrogation, the questions were too private for Steve`s liking and Natasha was too pertinacious. It ended up in almost a fight.   
No wonder, they both are wrought up. With the job like this, it was getting harder to have a normal conversation, like the people they saved did.   
  
He ran faster and faster, trying to settle down this rueful feeling inside. He was anxious and couldn`t understand where that had come from.   
But, actually, deep inside he knew it oh so well.  
  
He was scared to admit it to himself.   
  
James Buchanan Barnes.  
  
He had been keeping on loading himself with new missions and tasks, just to distract himself, just to try for one day to stop mourning his long lost best friend.   
It wasn`t painful to think about that steely gaze of the Winter Soldier. It was devastating.   
  
_I am his mission._  
  
But somewhere there, under the countless mind erasing procedures, under the blanket made of sheer pain, somewhere there should still be Bucky. His Bucky. His dear beloved friend.   


He would be damned, but Still would never lose hope.   
  
He would find him. He had promised it to himself.   
  
His Bucky saved him from drowning.   
  
The Winter Soldier kept on killing Steve`s allies.   
  
In the very depth of Steve`s heart, there was an awful confession. He was terrified of it, but it was there. If it wasn`t for the serum HYDRA had drugged Bucky with, he`d had been long dead now. No way he could had survived that fall from the train without it.   
HYDRA is responsible for both his life and death.   
  
Dead.   
  
In a way he was.   
  
But there was a chance to save him. There was always a tiny sparkle of hope. “Naivety” – that`s how Natasha would call it.  
  
Steve was so deep inside his thoughts, he didn`t notice how he found himself in a small park.   
  
God knew how long he had been just running with no destination.   
  
Steve leaned on the old tree, steadying his breathing.   
Out of the blue he vividly remembered the moment he found Bucky tied on one of the HYDRA`s bases.   
  
“No no no no”  
  
He had lost all hope then, he thought Bucky had no longer been already.   
  
And then…  
  
The realization that he actually was there, alive, wounded but alive…   
  
He didn`t want to think about it now. Not because he tried to forget, no.   
Every memory of Bucky, not Winter Soldier, was something too sacred, too cherished.   
  
Too hurtful.   
  
Steve thought about the kids he had met that morning. If only they had known that their heroic Captain America was such a soppy mess, not much different from that 16-year-old sickly teen from Brooklyn.   
  
Steve raised his eyes up to the sky, meeting the star light. One fell, its bright trail sparkled briefly.   
He didn`t make a wish.   
He knew it never worked before. Why would it this time.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Woke up at seven am.   
Dull and palpable pain is blooming, right where his metal limb was joined with his shoulder.   
  
Yes, his mind did register the pain with his arm. And not just it. Temperatures, pressure, hits. He just somehow knew that one or another sense was active, but he couldn`t actually feel it. Like a litmus paper, it always let Bucky know what he was supposed to feel when needed.

Bucky sneaked into the common shower room, located in the end of the long hall.   
  
Rarely there was really hot water running, though distantly warm water would go as well. At least there was water at all.   
Bucky closed his eyes shut, stepping under the weak downpour of the water. It should help to relax his tensed body, covered with never healing scars. Not so friendly reminders of what he had done, what person he used to be and didn`t want to be one anymore.   
  
_Concentrate on your breathing.  
Take a breath in.   
Slowly exhale._   


Bucky let himself be drifted in his thoughts far away.   
  
Among the humble set of the relatively vivid memories stored in his ripped mind he cherished some of them more than others. One was about saving Captain America.   
Yes, he could have left him in that damn river, dump him all alone, unconscious and waiting when the water would fill his lungs, killing painfully. As had been initially planned.   
  
But he didn`t.   
And the reason why was one of a few things Bucky knew for sure.   
  
He clearly understood that he was important. Not like the mission or target, no.  
More like the person, who had had a vital role in the partially forgotten life of Sergeant James Barnes.   
Turned out HYDRA`s serum and mind games were not-so-irresistible whatsoever. If a test subject had a longing for something or someone, strong enough to remain in the sub consciousness no matter what, then, according to Bucky`s theory, he had a slim chance of fighting his old self back. If he concentrated enough, if he collected as many details as possible in the given conditions, he could claim the victory in this fight with himself.   
  
He wasn`t able to realize before that one of the links with his pre HYDRA self was Steve. But now, with this knowledge and the absence of perpetual experiments on him, Bucky wouldn`t step back until he clearly remembered everything.   
  
Steve Rogers was his strongest link with the past.  
Steve Rogers was his weakness.   
  
_I won`t let Winter Soldier win._  
  
Someone`s footsteps on the creaky floor in the hall let Bucky know that he was better to hurry up and return to his apartment, if he didn`t want to come across his neighbors.   
  
Today was the rainy day.   
  
_Good. Justified reason to stay in._

There was this habit, Bucky put nutritious energy bars on the top of his notebook, just to remind himself that he actually needed proper food to survive through the day. He unwrapped one bar carefully and took a bite, this time it was honey and some nuts flavored one.

Breakfast time.   
  
Sometimes ex assassin felt lost, just like a small child, he knew (or, better say had forgotten) little of how to live independently, how to do chores or cook edible meal the way normal people do. So there was nothing left but to re learn. And he was doing his best. Much to his own surprise he had discovered in himself the fondness for herbal teas (he had also read that some herbs combination can improve memory and lightly sedate without damaging the brain and causing addiction).   
  
The mug with the steaming hot beverage was put on the countertop, he didn`t see the point in having a proper dinner table since he was living on his own.   
  
The particularly strong gust of wind smashed the raindrops right against the only window in Bucky`s place.   
  
He was glad that he had newspapers covering the window glass. Rain made him feel lonelier for some reason unknown. But on the other hand it was good that he was still capable of feeling any emotions at all, happiness or sadness, it didn`t matter.   
  
He opened his priceless notebook on the page with his most recent notes taken down in the sloppy, hurried handwriting.   
  
Steve had rescued him from the captivity, back in the 1940s, according to that last paragraph he wrote.   
Was it a feel of owing Steve that motivated him to save him from drowning against the quite the opposite order of killing him? Was he beholden to the All American hero?   
  
_No, there should be something else._   


When the tea and another nutritious bar were finished, Bucky took his time to sit in the heavy silence, thinking of what he wanted to do next. Winter Soldier had been denied the freedom of choice (but not completely, as it had been found out). Bucky was from time to time a bit at a loss when it came to planning his own day.   
  
He cast a glance at the small table near the entrance. There were books piled on it, with candy wrappings used as bookmarks tucked in them. On the top was lying the book he had bought several days ago.   
  
Another wave of raindrops drummed against the windows, reminding of the sound the bullets make when hitting a concrete wall.   
  
The mattress dipped down a bit under Bucky`s weight when he sat on it, making himself comfortable and leaning against the wall. He didn`t mind spending the rest of the morning (or maybe even the day, if the rain wouldn`t stop) reading. The book was well worn, with the dull paper cover and dog ears on almost every page. Bucky quickly skimmed the synopsis text on the back cover. The book was considered to be a classic one, a gem of American literature, and promised to tell the story of a teenager who had been expelled, though it only gave him the reason to explore New York and his own personality.   
  
_A teenager's dramatic struggle against death and growing up… Hmmm, interesting._   
  
As Bucky was halfway through the story, another flashback hit him.  
  
He used to read books aloud to Steve when the latter was tossing and turning in his sleep, suffering from the fever.   
Bucky clutched to this memory instantly. He tossed the book aside and closed his eyes. He set his mind free to drift back to one of such days.   
  
The picture was clear as if he actually was there again.   
  
He relaxed and let himself be embraced by the recollected bittersweet memories.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

_“You shouldn`t have, Buck. I`ll be just fine, as usual-” Steve stops mid-sentence when severe cough catches his breath again. Bucky flinches and comes closer to his friend. He clutches at the drug store paper bag which is wet from the rain and on the verge of breaking. 2 precious bottles of cold medicine gently clink, it`s almost like music.  
  
Steve follows the rules, tries to make the world a better place and always makes sure that everyone around is safe and sound on a daily basis absolutely for free. And he is so obsessed with the idea of helping others that naturally at the end of the day he totally forgets to take care of himself.   
  
One memory is still fresh in Bucky`s head. It was raining heavily, almost just as bad as it is now. He was coming back home after another dance night. He had already forgotten that pretty girl`s name, and her perfume had already worn off. The raindrops washed the last traces of her lipstick from Bucky`s cheeks. He decided to visit Steve anyway, despite it being pretty late. He expected to see his friend drawing sketches in the dim light, too drawn into the process and never acknowledging the existence of others. It has always fascinated Bucky, the way Steve changes while creating his artworks. And despite Steve is always insisting on that his works are nothing more but some amateur doodles, to Bucky they were pure art.   
But the reality was way different from what he had expected to see. Steve was sitting outside his apartment on the ground. God knows for how long he had been like this, his clothes was soaking wet. He wasn`t even crying, he just looked empty and shocked. Shaking, his fingers numb and ice cold. He couldn`t make himself enter his own home, so unbearable it was it for him to be there all by himself. It was the night when his mom was taken to the hospital. Soon after that she passed away.   
And from then on Bucky promised himself that he would do anything to protect his beloved friend so that he`d never feel bad or sad ever again.   
He was ready to do literally anything even if it meant to commit a crime or sacrifice his life. For the first time he actually meant it. They were no longer just sweet words to make some random girl smile. He was oh so ready to fight.   
  
Now, when Steve is literally on the verge of coughing his lungs out and collapsing from fever, the only option for Bucky was to break some rules. He certainly wouldn`t tell Steve at what price he got the chance to cure. Flirting with that young girl at the drug store in exchange for getting the priceless medicine is not a big price to pay when you have no money and your friend is dying. For Steve that definitely equals something horrible and unacceptable. Better suffer than abusing other people`s trust like this, right?  
So according to Bucky`s story he got the medicine at his military hospital.  
  
“Here, here. Just take it. And then go to bed, okay?” Bucky does his best to keep his voice even and cheerful. On the inside he wants to scream, maybe even cry. What an unfair world they live in. Feels like the good ones are always end up suffering, but rarely do they admit it.   
Steve eventually gives up and accepts the medicine. All Bucky can read in his eyes is silent gratitude. Why does he always look at him like Bucky is some kind of a god. He`s just a guy who does everything possible to save maybe the last person he truly cares about.   
Frankly speaking, Steve is the one who should be seen as nothing less than at least perfection.   
  
Bucky tucks Steve in and sits on the edge of the bed, one hand is holding Steve`s the other soothingly brushes through the blonde strands. No words can describe the bunch of emotions Bucky is experiencing simply by looking at his dear friend, who is peacefully sleeping for the first time since he caught another cold during this autumn. Here is everything. Anger because Steve doesn`t deserve the life like this. Frustration because despite all his attempts he can`t make Steve`s life even a modicum better. Fear because he is scared to leave him all alone again, he has to come back to the military base soon. He hasn`t told him yet. But there is also something warm and comforting. Yes, it`s freezing in the apartment, rain outside pours down mercilessly and the wind howls melancholically. But they are together, close, safe. Even if for tonight only.   
  
It hurts. But it`s all they can afford.   
  
Steve pretends that he`s sleeping when he feels Bucky`s warm arms wrapping around him, holding close and even closer when another wave of severe coughing starts. He doesn`t want it to end. He feels so impossibly bad that he secretly wishes to die like this. So that his last memory will be related to his dear Bucky.   
  
One part of Bucky wishes that Steve doesn`t hear him, the other hopes for quite the opposite when he quietly whispers “It`s going to be okay, Steve. I promise. You are going to be okay, my love. We are going to be okay. Sleep well, my dear.”   
He lightly kisses Steve`s crown and gently nuzzles his fair blonde hair.   
  
Steve grips Bucky`s hand tighter.   
  
Neither of them want the morning to arrive.   
  
_

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“Rogers! Time to rise and shine!”   
  
Steve woke up to see Sam sipping his morning coffee, his legs are rested on the low coffee table.   
  
“Good morning to you too, Sam,” huffed Steve but smiled anyway. He was happy to see his friend. “Where have you been?”  
  
“Ehhh, here and there. Superhero stuff, you know. While you and Nat were interacting with kids, I was doing the real job,” not a single muscle moved on Sam`s face while he was obviously mocking Steve.   
  
“Oh, come on!”   
Sam dodged from the pillow thrown at him and laughed. He looked really pleased with himself.   
  
“Actually, I`m here for a reason. Jokes aside, this time we`ve got a plenty of work to do…”  
  
And so several hours later they were on their way to Lagos.   
  
Little did they know where this road would lead them.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

_I just try to get my life together  
  
_ He knew something was about to happen. He just knew it.   
  
To reduce the anger outbursts, he had stuck to his routine even more, holding for dear life. Definitely was it hard to stop suspecting any person who cast even briefly a glance on him in wanting to kill him.   
  
_it is going to happen  
it is going to happen  
it is going to happen  
_  
“LEAVE ME ALONE”  
  
He was startled by the sound of his own voice cutting through the silence of his small apartment.   
  
“…leave me alone…”  
  
His voice broke into shattered whisper, he dropped on his knees helplessly and silently cried. Tears on his cheeks felt alien. But Bucky didn`t care. That proved he was still human. He was still alive.   
  
Another step on the way to recollect his sanity.   
Little did he know where this road would lead him.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“You pulled me from the river. Why?”

“I don't know.”  
  
They both knew the hurricane was approaching. And either were so desperate for this perpetual torture and constant chase to finally end that the idea of being killed right there was in some way appealing even.   
Thus the last memory they had would be one of each other.   
  
“Yes, you do.”  
  
_because you are still my dear Brooklyn love, Steve…_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Do let me know what you think of this work, please? :3 
> 
> ~have a nice day!


End file.
